


Alone Together

by GraveVyxen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bathing/Washing, Cursed Storybrooke, Implied Amnesia, M/M, Technical First Time Sex, marriage AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraveVyxen/pseuds/GraveVyxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cursed Storybrooke AU. Jefferson wakes up in a strange home with a strange man that he's never met before. Except he's the only one that seems to find this strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: Alone Together  
> CHARACTERS: Jefferson, Killian Jones  
> PAIRINGS: Mad Hook (Killian/Jefferson)  
> NOTES: A friend begged me to write something where Killian had been affected by the curse as well, because she was curious as to what his curse-self would have been. I made a joke that if Regina had cursed him, she would have put him with Jefferson so that Jefferson couldn't complain about being alone. And then this happened.  
> DISCLAIMER: Not my characters. Never happened. All made up in my mind.

Jefferson knew, upon waking up, that something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The room he was in no longer had towers of colorful hats. He could no longer smell the flowery-scented air of Wonderland through barred windows, nor hear the bustle of castle life within the Queen's halls outside a perpetually-locked door. He was no longer in Wonderland, as he'd been for what felt like years. Decades. Trapped in the castle of the Queen of Hearts and given naught but fabric, thread, and scissors to try and create a hat that could take him home. Home to what? He had trouble remembering after a while, the only mantra in his mind being 'get it to work'.

Jefferson shook his head and opened his eyes. He wondered if he'd finally found his way, if he'd hit his head coming back through the portal to his home. His mind finally cleared when he found his surroundings to be even less familiar than he'd been expecting. A neutrally bland beige room, with red and gold accents, greeted his eyes. He lay on a soft mattress, tucked into red and gold blankets and sheets. Was he still in Wonderland, then? He knew his hovel in the Enchanted Forest, the memories were surfacing now, had none of this. He'd had a straw pallet and a patchy blanket, and...and...Grace! He remembered now, her face clearing in his mind, and for a moment he felt joy. It all came crashing back with the realization that he must not have made it home, this room was too rich, too exquisite, to be anywhere but Wonderland, any home but the Queen's castle. She must have moved him from his cell, finally, after so many years, out of pity. Maybe he'd hurt himself and needed to be sent to rehabilitate.

But then why would she have given Jefferson, the 'Mad Hatter' (as she so liked to call him), such a luxurious room? He slowly stood, pushing the red silk sheets from his, very naked, body. He blushed furiously and grabbed for a pillow to cover up with. Who had taken off his clothes? He moved to the cherry wood dresser against the wall and pulled open one of the drawers. His brow furrowed when he pulled out a thick, rough fabric and let it unfold, showing itself to be pants. He frowned and set them aside, only to find the whole drawer full of them. With a sigh, he grabbed the pair he'd acquired and tugged them on. They felt rough on his bare skin, but he ignored how uncomfortable it was, as he figured out how to close the front. No ties greeted him, but buttons. He knew how to do buttons.

Jefferson caught sight of himself in a mirror and flinched. He didn't trust mirrors, not at all, but this one seemed to be harmless. Reflected in the shiny surface was himself. Jefferson's eyes narrowed. His hair was cropped in short, not at all like it had been just the night before. He reached up to run his fingers through it and was surprised at how soft it felt. The matting was gone. Maybe whoever had taken him from his cell was done it. He didn't have more time to ponder that, he had to find out how to escape so that he could go back to his duty of finding a way home to Grace. She must be so scared for him, she must be terrified and wondering where her papa was. He pulled at another dresser drawer and found a few shirts, soft shirts, with short sleeves and no buttons. Without another thought, he pulled one over his head and headed for the door.

Jefferson wrapped his hand around the knob, expecting it to be locked, and being pleasantly surprised when it swung open easily. He looked into a lit hallway, with no guards, no obstacles. This was going to be a piece of cake. Unless there were booby-traps. He decided to risk it and started a walk down the carpeted floor, never once looking forward.

"Oi!" A voice from up ahead of him made Jefferson jump. "There he is." Jefferson found himself looking up, face paling at the idea of being caught, but was greeted by a smiling man with short, dark hair. "Hello, love. I thought you'd still be sleeping. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed."

Jefferson looked around in a panic. "Me?" He was trying to place the accent on the words. British. Definitely British.

"Of course, you, silly boy." The man was grinning now, advancing on Jefferson. Jefferson took a few steps backward and found himself meeting the wall. "And what have we discussed about you wearing my clothes? Cheeky." A light in the hall glinted off of the man's silver earring, catching a scar under his eye. "Well, I guess we'll eat in the kitchen, then. I'm nearly done." He leaned in close, and Jefferson stiffened as the man's lips claimed his lazily.

Jefferson's eyes widened. He was frozen in shock, unsure of what to do. This man, this person he'd never seen before, was kissing him, in an unfamiliar hallway, and he was positive he didn't even know his name.

"Come along, then." The man pulled away after only a few moments of contact and took Jefferson's hand in his. "Let's go eat."

Jefferson nodded dumbly, unsure how to answer. Who was he? And where were they? This couldn't be Wonderland, no. His eyes finally caught a frame on the wall and he stopped suddenly. The other man was pulled to a stop by Jefferson's grip. The picture showed him, Jefferson, with this strange hair cut that he was positive he hadn't had yesterday, dressed in a strange suit. It looked formal, like something one would wear to a ball, but Jefferson knew it had been a long time since he'd been to a ball, and he would never have worn something like that if he'd gone. In the photo, he was standing next to the man that was holding his hand, the man who had kissed him, looking happier than he ever remembered feeling, besides when he was with his daughter, with his wife before her. But the two of them looked so happy in the photo, pressed into each others' sides, standing on the steps of what looked like a church, holding hands and grinning.

"Jeff? Love?" The man next to him tugged at his hand. "Breakfast is getting cold. I know how much you hate cold tea."

Jefferson shook his head and turned back. "Tea?"

"Yes." The other man grinned. "I made you tea. Doctor Whale said it may help you jog your memory. You took a nasty header off the car park roof hanging lights yesterday. Afraid I might have lost you." He moved his hand from Jefferson's hand up to his neck. Jefferson twitched and ducked a bit, trying to hide the scar he knew he'd forgotten to cover. "Glad it was just a short fall, not off the house roof." He smiled and leaned in to kiss Jefferson's lips again, quickly and gently. "Now come on, let's get some tea in you."

Jefferson licked his lips when the man pulled away. He wished he had a name to put to the face. It was starting to get to the point of annoying that he had no idea what to call him. There must be a sign around here somewhere, something that said his name on it. He found himself in the kitchen quickly, being served a generous helping of eggs and toast, a large cup of steaming tea set next to the plate. His stomach growled. It had been a long time since he'd had enough food to consider himself full, even longer since he'd had the money to have real tea. With shaking fingers, he put sugar, and there was so much sugar, so many cubes of the stuff that he wouldn't have to ration, and poured some cream into the cup. He stirred it gently, worried about it spilling over, and picked it up to take a sip.

The other man grinned at him as he made his own plate and sat across from Jefferson at the small table. "You look famished. Would never believe I just made you a salmon dinner last night. I wonder where you put it all sometimes." He dug in.

Jefferson began to eat as well, sneaking glances at the man as they ate. He still had no idea who he was. He wondered distantly if the food was poisoned before realizing that no, it couldn't be, and if it was, he'd already eaten enough of it to lose consciousness at this point. He'd drained his tea before he knew it and sat back almost sadly.

"Aww, now, don't pout, love." The man stood to grab a silver teapot from the counter and brought it over. "I made more." He began to pour it, the bronze liquid steaming as it contacted the air of the room. "I made enough to keep my husband happy."

Jefferson coughed at that, trying not to choke on his bite of toast. Husband? He was joking, right? A sneaky glance down at his own hands showed him a gold band around his left ring finger. He swallowed hard and raised the hand to look more closely. "Husband?"

The other man returned the teapot to the counter and chuckled. "Now, don't tell me you forgot our wedding." He reached for Jefferson's hand, and in that moment, Jefferson realized that he'd only been using his right hand, never the left, which was covered with a black leather glove. "That fall didn't rattle your memory that badly, did it? You at least remember my name, you were mumbling it the entire way to the hospital."

Jefferson felt a blush rising into his cheeks, and the sad look on the man's face made him decide that acting, pretending, this was the best course of action. He didn't want to see what happened when the other man got sad. Or if his sadness became anger. "No, no, I just...husband. I like that word." He couldn't even wrap his head around it. Married? Him? To a man? Where was he? What was this strange land he'd journeyed to that he could be given a made-up life? The smile on the other man's face gave him hope that he'd said the right thing. "My...husband." He punctuated the words with a squeeze of the hand in his.

"That's right." The other man pulled Jefferson's hand to his lips and kissed the back. "Your Killian."

Jefferson nodded, stashing the knowledge of the name into his memory. "My Killian." He replied. A final squeeze of Killian's hand, and it felt good to know that he'd at least gotten a name, that the pretending would soon be easier for him, and Jefferson let go. He finished off his breakfast with a full stomach and went back to drinking his tea. Two more cups of it before he was finished, and he began to clear the table out of worry that Killian would think it odd if he let everything be done for him. He must, in this world he was in, be more helpful than this, correct? He must be able to fend for himself sometimes.

Killian stood up from the table to watch as Jefferson began to wash the dishes. Dishes were easy. "I should be heading off to work soon. Unless you want me to stay home and help you? I'm sure Michael will understand if I have to take off work and take care of my husband."

Jefferson stiffened. "I...I can manage." He didn't want to have Killian stay, if Killian stayed, he'd never find the time to go through their things, to find the portal making item that sent him here in the first place. He'd never be able to get back to the Enchanted Forest to find Grace if Killian was staying to watch over him. "You don't want to be stuck here all day with me."

Killian eyed him up and down and gave a soft smile. "On the contrary, I would  _love_  to stay home all day with you. But we also need the money that fishing brings in. And Michael will be sore if I'm not onboard the fishing boat in an hour." He kissed Jefferson's cheek. "I'll be home before you know it."

Jefferson gave a smile, but secretly couldn't help hoping that Killian stayed out for a long time. He didn't want to think about what it would be like if Killian came home to find him tearing apart the house. He seemed like such a nice man.

Killian pulled on a dark grey peacoat at the door and wound a red scarf about his neck. "I love you." He said with a wave.

Jefferson forced a wider smile and waved back. "You, too." He turned away as soon as the door was closed and set off on an inspection. His search turned up a few photo albums, documents in both his name (Jefferson Jones? Really?) and Killian's, along with an entire room of fabrics and scissors and thread. A sewing room. There was a mannequin in the corner, dressed in a half-finished gown, and a sewing machine on the table. Turning to leave, something caught Jefferson's eye. A black hat. A lace-covered, black, silken top hat.  _His_  hat.

Jefferson rushed to pick the thing up, grinning madly. He'd found it. He'd finally gotten his hat back. He could finally go home to the Enchanted Forest. Except when he spun it on the floor, nothing happened. It stopped spinning and sat there, useless. The hatter frowned and ran his fingers through his too-soft hair. It should be throwing up a cloud of magic by now, it should be turning into a portal so that he could go home and find Grace. It should be working and not just sitting there like any other hat on the floor. And that's when he realized that that hat wasn't his hat. His hat had a ding in the brim, a tear in the lace around the body of it. His hat had a silky pink lining. This was flat black. This wasn't his hat. This hat had no magic. It wouldn't take him home.

In a rage, Jefferson flung the hat against the wall and watched the top seam bend inward when it hit a protruding corner. He sat heavily into the chair and put his face in his hands. He rubbed at his eyes. "I need to find a way. I need to get home to Grace." He murmured. But if not the hat, how had he come to this strange land? How had he found a place like this without his hat? What else could have made his portal? Finally pushing himself back to his feet, Jefferson headed back out into the hall. Maybe the object lie somewhere in the room he'd awakened in. The bedroom he guessed the him of this world shared with husband Killian.

The room, it turned out, was just as useless as the hat. There was nothing magical in it, nothing in the whole house, at least as much as he could search, and Jefferson knew that Killian would be home to be with him at any time. He pulled out the bedside drawer and blushed before closing it. A replica of a phallus had greeted him, in a bright shade of red, along with some oil and a box of what looked like little metallic squares. Part of him didn't even want to think about what he'd just seen, most of him didn't, in fact, but there was a small bit of his mind that continued to wonder about it, long after he'd put it behind him. He threw open the closet and was surprised to find a collection of waistcoats and jackets in a startling array of colors, ranging from neutral to bright and gaudy. Pressed suit pants and shirts and jackets also filled the small space, dress shoes and boots all over the floor inside. He hurried to change. These clothes seemed so much more welcoming than the scratchy, rough denim he'd found and the breezy shirt. He chose a smart, dark grey suit with a matching vest and a purple button-down shirt, hoping that this was what he normally wore. Everything seemed tailored to fit him, but the fact that Killian was about the same height and build meant that they could be his as well.

Jefferson finally relegated himself to the fact that, whatever had brought him here was no longer going to be around to get him home. He sighed and stepped into a pair of dress shoes. Maybe he should try and act the part of doting husband then. It was all he had left to do at this point. If he couldn't go to Grace, if he couldn't find his way out of this world, he may as well act the part until something came along to give him a hand. On his way out of the bedroom, he found a drawer full of scarves in the dresser, in all different shades and colors and patterns. He chose a paisley one, in a purple that matched his shirt, with grey accents to match the suit, and wound it around his scar. After checking that it was well-concealed, he nodded and headed into the bathroom, where he fixed his hair (and who needed this many hair products?) and checked his appearance. He felt that he looked passably-sane, that at least maybe Killian would be fooled into thinking that he was the Jefferson of this world.

At least...he hoped he would be.

Jefferson found himself walking around the house again, finally taking in the pictures hung up on the walls. Wedding photos, family portraits (at least, he believed that was what they were, he and Killian posed in front of painted backdrops, smiling and happy), artsy pictures in frames. He wondered what type of people the two of them were. Killian seemed the type to dote on him, if anything was evidenced by their morning. He moved to flip through the albums and found more of the same. Candids of them at parties and picnics and gatherings, holding hands and sitting close together, smiling and laughing with their friends. He was surprised to pick out Victor Frankenstein, Rumpelstiltskin. And in one photo, he saw her. The Evil Queen. Regina.

He dropped the album on the floor. What was this place? How were all of them here? He looked around with narrowed eyes. Was he being watched at this very moment by  _her majesty_? Another mirror caught his eye and he snarled at it. "I know it was you, Regina. Who else could have this kind of magic? How else could you have brought me here from Wonderland?" He stood, stalking over to the shiny glass. "But for what? Why did you want me? And who else did you curse?" His head snapped around to look behind him, making sure no one was watching or listening to him. He wanted what he said to be for her ears only. "What's your game?"

Moments passed in silence, and Jefferson waited to hear from her, but there was nothing. No answer. He growled, turning on his heel to go back to the kitchen. He knew she was behind this. She had to be. Regina was the only person besides Rumpelstiltskin with this much power. And he would never have done something like this. He knew all magic came with a price, a higher price than what was granted. He knew better than to use magic on this high of a scale. Regina always thought herself invincible.

As he began to scrub out a teacup in the sink, intending to make another pot to calm down, there was a loud, shrill ringing sound. Jefferson jumped and turned to face the device making the noise. Something curved and plastic hung on the wall, with a cord connecting to its base. He picked it up and the ringing stopped. As the man was about to put it back where it belonged, he could hear a voice coming from the handset.

"Jefferson!" The plastic squawked, and Jefferson winced before putting it to his ear. "Jefferson?"

Jefferson frowned. He knew that voice. "Regina."

"Ahh, good to see you remember my name. Tell me, how do you like your new home?" Regina's voice was amicable, sounding as though they were having a polite conversation over tea, as if she hadn't turned his entire life upside-down. "And how is your husband?"

"What did you do?" Jefferson looked away. "What is this place?"

A small laugh answered him. "Why, Jefferson, you should know where you are. You're in Storybrooke. Your home."

"This is  _not_  my home. Where is Grace?" Jefferson wished he could strangle her through the device in his hands. "Tell me how to get back to the Enchanted Forest. I don't want any part of your sick game."

"Oh, but, Jefferson. You are home." Regina's voice was sickly sweet, and then it hardened suddenly. "Oh, you mean the curse? I thought everyone could use a reminder of how powerless they are. A land without magic. No portals or spells or potions. No one has power here. No one except me."

Jefferson growled then. "Send me back to the forest. My daughter needs me."

"But your daughter is here!" Regina's bright voice answered again. "And she's safe. She's with a new family. One that wouldn't  _abandon_ her, the way her own father did. She's safer now than she ever was."

"Liar!" Jefferson snapped. "She belongs with me!"

"She belongs with people who will take care of her, not leave her on the promise of riches. Shame on you." There was a pause. "And how is your husband? You've met him, I trust?"

"I don't care about that. You know Grace should be with me, Regina." Jefferson looked around the kitchen, hoping no one was around to hear what he was about to say. "Please. All I want is my daughter. You know how important family is, don't you?"

"Loved ones make you weak. Exposing your weaknesses to your enemies means certain ruin. Isn't that right, Jefferson?" Jefferson's heart sank when she began to laugh. "Anyway, I have a meeting coming up. Try not to be too mean to your darling husband. He's smitten with you. A real gentleman. You don't deserve him, but at least you have someone to keep you company." Another short pause and then her voice was dark once more. "And you should know that no one else remembers anything about that life. Only you and I. So unless you want Killian to think you've gone  _mad_ , you should probably keep your past under wraps. Have a nice day, Jefferson. Enjoy your new life."

A click sounded and then a blank tone. Jefferson's mouth was open. He didn't know what else to say. What else could he do? She'd made a curse, made all of his friends and his own daughter forget what their lives were. Forget him. He set the handset back where it belonged and collapsed at the table, exhausted and emotionally spent. He'd lost his daughter. That actually hurt more than her betrayal in Wonderland. She'd put Grace close and he would never be able to hold her again. He'd lost her.

That was the way he remained when he heard the front door opening again. Startled, Jefferson jumped to his feet and brushed himself off. He nearly reached for something to use as a weapon when he heard Killian's soft voice. "Jeff, darling? I'm home." Jefferson's outstretched hand dropped to his side again and he felt a sense of shame and self-loathing when he realized that he'd never done anything for the man his other self called 'husband'. He hadn't made him dinner or even a cup of tea. "Jeff?"

"In the kitchen." Jefferson hurried to find another teacup, rinsing it under the water of the faucet. "Hold on, give me a moment!"

Killian waltzed in. He draped his scarf over the back of a chair at the table and smiled. "What are you doing, love?"

Jefferson wiped out the cup and set it on the counter. "I-I was going to make...make tea?"

Shaking his head, Killian laughed. "On date night? Jeff, we've been over this. Friday nights, we go out to dinner." He moved to wrap his arm around Jefferson's waist and pull him close to kiss his temple. "You've dressed up nicely, as well."

Jefferson fought the urge to blush. He pushed the teacups further back on the counter. "Oh, yes. Yeah, I forgot. Date night." He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. "So...are we just going to head out then?"

Killian chuckled again and kissed Jefferson's lips softly. "No, love, let me change and put on some cologne. You don't want to go out with a man that stinks of fish and metal." His good hand gave Jefferson's waist a squeeze. The thin man jumped. "Ah, I love how ticklish you are. It makes it so much more fun to tease you." The grin on Killian's face would have looked maniacal on anyone else, but it suited Killian's face perfectly. "Give me ten minutes. You can help me change, if you like." He winked before heading to the staircase.

Jefferson opted not to follow, out of fear that he'd be totally out of character if he did go. Surely the him of this world would have some kind of quirks around his husband while Killian changed that Jefferson just could never hope to replicate. He moved back to the living room and collapsed on the couch. He needed to figure this place out. If only he knew more about Jefferson Jones. There must be some way for him to figure out his own personality here. There must.

Killian came back down the stairs after a few minutes, dressed in slacks and a black button-down shirt. He smelled faintly of sea salt now, ocean water. Jefferson found himself drawn to the man's side. He tried to pretend that it was just acting, but there was something else. He'd always been drawn to those stronger than himself, more confident people. Killian was one of those. That must be why the Jefferson of Storybrooke married him. "Hello, love." Killian's rough fingers traced Jefferson's jaw. "There's my boy."

Jefferson bit into his lower lip when he found himself leaning into Killian's touch and pulled away. "Sorry. Let's-let's go, then."

Killian looked almost put out as he lowered his hand to his side. "Alright. It's cold out tonight. Let me grab your coat." He turned to rifle through the closet, pulling out the peacoat he'd worn earlier, and a similar one in black. He held up the black one for Jefferson to put his arms in. "There you are. Nice and warm. Your scarf may need a double, though. Don't want your neck getting cold, eh?"

Jefferson nodded dumbly and let Killian wrap a grey scarf about his neck over the paisley one. He leaned into Killian's chest and raised a hand to help when he remembered that his husband of this world only seemed to have one. "Let me grab yours. Don't want you to be cold, either."

Killian's smile resurfaced at that and he was patient while Jefferson retrieved his red scarf and tied it about his neck. "Thank you, love." He murmured, kissing at Jefferson's fingers when he was too slow to pull them away.

Jefferson felt a blush rising in his cheeks. He stuck his hands into his pockets and found a pair of leather gloves. He quickly put them on. "I'm ready to go." He headed for the door and opened it. As Killian went to pass him, he held out his good hand. Jefferson hesitated only for a moment before taking it in his own. He could feel the warmth of the other man's skin through the gloves he wore.

They took a long walk, at Killian's insistence, to the restaurant. The host, a man that Jefferson swore he recognized, he must know, waved at them. "You boys want your usual table?" He smiled. "Or do you want to try another one?"

"The usual is fine with us, Will." Killian replied with a good-natured smile. "Why change?" He untangled his hand from Jefferson's to tug at his scarf and brush snowflakes from his messy, dark hair.

Jefferson felt Will's eyes on him, but didn't say anything. He knew where he'd seen Will. He'd been in Wonderland. He worked for the Queen. Her knave. Biting his tongue, he undid his own scarf and jacket, before turning to help undo Killian's. He draped the coats and scarves over his arm.

Will smiled. His gaze lingered for just a few moments on Jefferson before diverting. His eyes showed a bit of confusion, but he didn't voice it. "Right this way." He grabbed for two menus and headed toward the restaurant, leading the two men into a darker area, lit by candles on the tables.

Jefferson fumbled at putting the napkin over his lap, trying not to make eye contact with Killian. He felt as though, if Killian could see his eyes, he'd know that he wasn't who he was pretending to be. He wasn't Killian's Jefferson. He was just a father, a madman, a hatter without a home or a family. He didn't want Killian to read the deceit and madness in his eyes. He just wanted to pretend, at least for a while longer, that he was a husband, and a loving one at that, who knew who he was and was comfortable in his skin.

He guessed that the way he jumped when Killian's thumb brushed the back of his hand probably didn't help the image he tried to project. Jefferson's head cocked back up, a painful pop playing in his neck. He hissed and rubbed at it. "S-sorry. Thinking."

"Yeah, you were." Killian smiled softly and withdrew his hand. "Are you feeling alright, love?" There was genuine concern in his expression, thinly veiled behind his joking exterior. "You've been acting odd. And I don't think all of it is your injury."

Jefferson swallowed, but shrugged. His hands moved to the napkin in his lap, twisting and turning the dark red cloth in his fists. "I guess I'm just..." His eyes darted to his left to see Will approaching with a bottle of red wine. He tried to give a comfortable, easy smile and directed Killian's attention away from him. If he could just find things for Killian to focus on, things to keep him busy so that he didn't bring up the oddness. "Ah, wine, thank you!"

Will smiled, albeit a bit awkwardly. "You're not the one that normally gets excited about the wine." He laughed as he poured them each a glass. "Special occasion, Jeff?"

Jefferson's eyes flashed to Killian, wide and near-frightened before going back to Will. He tried to soften his face and look as close to relaxed as he could, with how high-strung he felt. "No, no, I just...I've had quite a day." He said, reaching for the glass. He took a sip.

Killian smiled softly. "A week, quite a week, love." His gaze turned to Will, and Jefferson was thankful to no longer be the one under his stare. "He took a header off the car park. Hurt himself pretty badly. Doctor Whale thinks he might have memory trouble for a few days, a few weeks at most." He shared openly before taking his own sip. He winked at Jefferson. "I think he's doing alright remembering. Don't you, Will?"

Will nodded and cracked a grin. "He doesn't remember the fiver I owe him, right?" He said in a loud, joking whisper. His hand came down hard on Jefferson's shoulder and sent him into a coughing fit. "Sorry, mate." The man began to pat lightly at Jefferson's back. "You're just gettin' beat left and right, aren't you?"

Jefferson slapped Will's hand away, eyes narrowing. "Making it worse." He grumbled and took a breath to control his coughing. When he looked back up, he saw hurt on Will's face, but only for a moment before he turned away from Jefferson and back to Killian. Jefferson sunk down into the soft seat, ashamed that he'd lashed out and hit someone the Jefferson of this world obviously considered a friend. A blush rose on his cheeks, hidden by the low lighting. He only had to raise his eyes for a moment to see the disappointment on Killian's face.

"So, you want the usual, Killian?" Will asked professionally, all traces of easy friendship gone. He pulled out his pad of paper and a pen. "Steak and potatoes for you, chicken and rice for the other half?"

Killian nodded. "Sounds great, Will. Thanks."

"My pleasure." Will said with a nod and headed off to put their food order in.

Jefferson tried to slink down further in his chair, playing with his napkin again. He could feel his cheeks burning, not to mention Killian glaring through him. He'd screwed up. "Sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize to me." Killian replied, arranging his utensils and laying the napkin over his lap. "It was Will you struck. Not me."

Jefferson bit his bottom lip. He felt like a scolded child. This man, Killian, seemed to know how to make him feel small. Just the same way that the Queen of Hearts knew, that Regina knew. He hated that. He hated people having that power over him. As much as he tried to be in control, someone always had a better handle on it. He could never seem to be that person. Maybe that was why he gravitated toward people that were stronger than he was. He surrounded himself with the people he wanted to be.

The table was quiet for a few minutes while Killian sipped at his wine and looked at the beverage list. Jefferson wondered if maybe Killian liked other drinks more than wine, if he would be putting in an order for something stronger. Maybe he would, if his husband kept disappointing him, the hatter mused with a lump forming in his throat. He really wished he could stop being such a disappointment to those he loved. Or, well, in Killian's case, someone that the him of this world must have loved. He didn't know the man well enough to see him as anything more than an acquaintance.

"You're thinking again." Killian pointed out as he set down the wine glass. His good hand reached out to touch Jefferson's wrist, causing the skittish man to flinch. "Jeff, love, come now. What has you thinking this hard?"

Jefferson looked up. His teeth began to settle into his lip once more before he forced himself to stop. "I don't know." He muttered unconvincingly. "I feel like...like I'm not myself." Like I have multiple voices yelling in my head at once, like I spent years as the Queen of Hearts' prisoner, like this world is all a lie that Regina made up. "I feel wrong."

Killian nodded, as if he understood, and patted Jefferson's hand. "We all feel that way sometimes, love. Is this something to do with your head? Are you having problems remembering things? You know, I  _have_  known you for eight years. I think I can give you most any answer you're looking for."

"Doubtful." Jefferson muttered under his breath, but he straightened in his chair. "I...I just feel like...well, like I'm someone else. Like maybe, what we have here, this whole world..." His throat closed up when he saw something akin to hurt surfacing on Killian's face. As if he knew that Jefferson was about to say that this world wasn't real. As if he could hear the man telling him that their marriage was a lie. He coughed quietly. "Well, I mean, like my past...maybe I came from somewhere else. Like there are other worlds out there and that's where I'm from." He finished lamely, flushing red. "That's all."

Killian's expression went from near-hurt to confused. "Other worlds?" He said slowly, tongue sneaking out to wet his lips before he took another swallow of wine. "Love, I think you may have hit your head harder than we thought." A slow smile spread over his lips. "You're spouting crazy talk."

Jefferson felt his face heat up. "I'm not crazy." He said, a little too loudly. "I'm not." His fingers began to drum a rhythm onto the table. "No, I...I swear, it's...other worlds. Other us-es. Where we're different. Worlds where we've never met."

Killian looked for all the world like he wanted to agree, if only to make Jefferson happy. He nodded, sympathetic, and set his good hand on the back of Jefferson's. "Well, I'm just glad that we met in this one, love." His thumb caressed the shiny gold band on the hatter's ring finger. "Because I don't think I could live without you."

Jefferson wanted to pull his hand away, face going pale at the admission, but he just nodded and let Killian do as he wanted. Obviously, he wasn't going to get through to him. He didn't believe in magic, in what the Evil Queen and the Dark One could do. He didn't believe in what Jefferson knew must be the truth. At least, he thought it was the truth. It had to be. All of these memories, they were all he had. And they had to be right...right? He finally drew his hand back from the other man's warmth and set it in his lap.

The concerned look on Killian's face was only there for a few moments before he took his own hand back. He looked down at the table, and then back at his husband. "I don't know what's wrong with you, Jeff, but-"

"Jefferson." Jefferson finally said, a bit annoyed. He didn't like having his name shortened. He didn't like how casual it sounded on the tongue of someone he didn't know. As much as he wanted Killian to accept him, believe that he was the real Jefferson, he just couldn't take this anymore. "It's Jefferson. Not Jeff."

Killian was a bit taken aback by that, leaning into the seat to give his husband a quick once-over. " _Jefferson_ , got it." He sighed. "I don't know what's gotten into you, love. Maybe we need to go back to Doctor Whale. Or even Doctor Hopper."

"No, I don't. Because there's nothing wrong with me." Jefferson glanced around and caught the eye of Will, bringing them their dinner. He set his jaw. "There's nothing wrong with me." He repeated.

"There's something." Killian muttered as Will set their food down and he glanced up to thank the man. "Will, could you, perchance, bring me some rum? I think I need something stronger than wine tonight."

Will quirked a brow, glancing over at Jefferson before nodding. "'Course, Killian."

The men at the table were silent after that, picking at their meals. Killian only spoke again when Will brought him his drink, thanking the waiter and taking a long sip of it. He barely even flinched when he swallowed. Setting down the glass, he took another long look at Jefferson.

Jefferson glanced up from his meal. He'd found himself struggling not to shovel the food into his mouth, not to act like he was starving. He wasn't used to having this much food all to himself. The Queen of Hearts didn't really like to feed him while he was living in Wonderland, in the cell in her castle. He was used to being hungry and eating as much as he could, as quickly as possible, when it was given to him, lest it be taken away. He swallowed and tried to avoid eye contact again. Killian was staring a hole through him. "What?" The hatter asked quietly. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

Killian shook his head, taking another bite of his dinner before shooting the other man another meaningful look. "Where's the Jefferson I married?" He asked softly.

Jefferson nearly choked on his food, eyes going wide. "What do you mean?" He asked, too quickly. Had Killian figured it out? How could he have? How did he know that he wasn't the Jefferson of Storybrooke? He'd tried so hard, so hard to act the part with the little information he was given.

Killian reached for Jefferson again, taking his hand. "You're not acting like yourself, love. You're never this angry." He laced their fingers gently. "You're normally so much more fun, you laugh and make jokes. Where's that Jefferson?"

Jefferson looked away. "I..." His teeth sunk into his bottom lip. What was he supposed to say to that? What reason could he give for his actions? "I'm just..."  _I'm not him?_ The hatter's mind supplied easily, but he resisted the urge to say that. He didn't want to draw Killian's anger, or worse, his laughter, his accusatory statements about madness, once more.

"Is it your injury?" Killian asked. A soft smile graced his face. "Jeff, love," the way Jefferson gritted his teeth at the shortening of his name had Killian changing his words. "Jefferson. Sorry." He thumbed the back of the other man's hand affectionately. "It's alright if you're confused or unsure. You hit your head pretty hard. You were unconscious until last night." His blue eyes searched Jefferson's, face lighting up with a grin. "I had to practically twist Whale's arm to get you discharged so I could let you wake up in our bed. I know how you are about hospitals."

Jefferson felt a warmth in his chest at that, a blush tinting his cheeks pink. His eyes drifted closed when Killian's hand left his own and, instead, cupped his cheek.

"You can tell me if you're having problems, love." Killian's thumb swept over Jefferson's cheekbone. "I'll never think you weak for it. You know that."

"I'm fine." Jefferson lied, softly, with no venom behind his words. He cracked open one eye to see Killian's expression. The other man looked unconvinced. The blush on the hatter's face deepened. "Okay, well...maybe I'm just a little...off."

"That sounds about right." Killian's tone was proud. "See? I understand if you're not feeling like yourself."

Will was approaching the table again, and Jefferson pulled away from Killian's hand sheepishly. His cheek was cold where the other man had been touching him.

"How're you gents doing? Still alright?" The waiter was obviously still suppressing his bubbly personality in favor of trying to remain professional after Jefferson's outburst earlier.

"Well, thanks, Will." Killian flashed him a grin and took another long drag of rum. "I think we're nearly through."

Jefferson nodded. He motioned at the plate. "Can I take this home? It was really good." He said softly.

"'Course you can, Jeff." Will moved to pick up the plate. "I'll be back with that box in a jiff." He paused when he felt Jefferson's hand on his elbow again. "Yeah?"

"Sorry. About hitting you." Jefferson looked toward Killian to see an amused smile on his husband's face. "I didn't mean it. That was out of line."

Will's returning grin betrayed his happiness at the words. "It's alright. You were in one of your moods. I can understand. I'd be the same if I was living with a guy who smells like fish all the bloody time." The small jab was directed at Killian with a smirk. "No offense. I'm sure you're both used to it."

Jefferson felt himself cracking a small smile at that. His eyes went back to Killian. The other man rolled his eyes, but smirked.

Killian paid the bill for their dinner with cash and, after donning their cold-weather clothing once more, offered his arm to Jefferson. The brunet man slipped his own arm into Killian's hesitantly as they stepped from the warmth of the restaurant and out into the cold night. Once the freezing air hit his face, Jefferson was glad for the warmth at his left. He burrowed himself into the other man's side without a second thought. He felt the man next to him stiffen only slightly before relaxing, drawing his arm out of the link to wrap it securely around Jefferson's body. It was that moment that Jefferson realized how easily he was dropping his guard, how much he was trusting this man he'd only just met this morning. And for what? To keep up a ruse that he was someone else, too? Tilting his head just a little, Jefferson gazed up at Killian, and saw only a contentment in the man's face as they headed back to the house. But it wasn't like Jefferson knew him, not really. Killian could be a spy in the Queen's game, for all he knew.. She could have Killian reporting back to her. There was no telling if the man Killian pretended to be in his presence was the same man that he was inside, truly. The only word he had was Regina's. And he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her.

Jefferson nearly stood back up, away from Killian, until the man's fingers slid into the pocket of his jacket to wrap around his own, and a soft kiss was pressed to his temple. "I love you, Jefferson." The endearment was murmured into his ear. "I'm so happy we didn't lose you. I don't know what I would do without you."

The hatter nearly stumbled at how open Killian was being with him, and felt a warm happiness spreading through the pit of his gut. No one had ever spoken to him that way, sounding so sincere. No one but Grace could achieve that level of love and gratitude behind their words. Still, a lingering part of his mind wondered, is this the real Killian? Or is he just an amazing actor? Jefferson still couldn't be sure. He allowed himself to be led up the stairs to the door of the huge home they supposedly shared, walked inside.

Killian released Jefferson from his embrace once he'd kicked the door shut and began to toe out of his boots. "Ahh, much better." He grinned. "So nice and toasty inside. Getting to be bitter cold out there."

Jefferson nodded in agreement, not trusting himself to speak, as he helped Killian out of his coat and scarf. He wasn't sure if he was expected to add to the conversation. He really didn't have any input either way. His mind was a bit distracted, following more than one disjointed thought process. Where was Grace? Was she keeping warm? Her birthday should be coming up if it was cold out, she was born in the dead of winter. And who was this Killian? Was he really just a devoted husband? A romantic rogue with a charming smile and a missing hand? Or was he someone else? A spy for Regina? Her lover, like the Huntsman had been? Was Killian just using him, confusing him, until Regina had use of him again?

"Love?"

"Hmm?" Jefferson snapped out of his thoughts with a quick turn of his head and a blush. "Oh, sorry. Thinking."

"Obviously." Killian smiled, the dig good-natured. "I was asking if you wanted a pot of tea. I can go make some." He raised his bad hand, the one that was always gloved. "You can take a rest. I know today has been quite trying for you."

Jefferson glanced over his shoulder at the very formal-looking living room. Did Killian mean to send him to the couch? "I can make tea..." He protested, not wanting to appear weak, or, God forbid, end up drugged if Killian chose to do so. Not that he expected that. Unless Killian really was working for Regina. And, as much as he felt he could trust the other man, as much as he wanted to trust him, he knew that, after what had happened to him in Wonderland, he had to keep up his guard. He had to remember that no one could be trusted. Not even someone as sweet and gentle as his husband appeared to be, because, after all, he'd only met the man today.

Killian chuckled, shaking his head. He crossed to Jefferson in two strides and kissed him. The hatter almost pulled back, still unused to stubbly kisses from someone he barely knew, but found something strangely comforting about the exchange. Killian pulled back and cupped Jefferson's jaw in his good hand. "Jefferson, love, you just woke up today. You're not feeling your best. Please, let me take care of you." He stroked Jefferson's cheekbone with his thumb. "I _want_ to take care of you."

Jefferson leaned into the affectionate touch, eyes slipping closed. His doubts leaving him once more, a strange feeling of comfort washed over him. He felt, for just a moment, as if he'd been in this position before, many times. As if this was  _normal._ As if Killian was a constant in his life and not someone he'd just met this morning. But the spell was broken when the other man's hand fell from his cheek. Jefferson's eyes snapped open, and the confusion at his actions hit him full force.

Killian took a step back, grinning, before disappearing into the kitchen to make tea. The only thing that remained was the scent of his cologne in the air where he'd been standing.

Jefferson sighed and headed over to sit down on the couch. He rested his head in his hands, pressing his palms against his tired eyes. What was  _wrong_  with him? He wasn't the type to let himself fall so easily into affection, to let down his guard and be  _trusting_  of another human being. He'd been hurt by his own trust in the past. He knew better, he knew that he knew better, he told himself over and over not to give in to Killian's advances out of fear of being hurt again. But it seemed that, every time Killian was in the room, a part of his mind that he didn't recognize, a new part of him that he'd never heard before, told him that it was okay, everything was okay. Killian was safety and warmth and love. And how could he really believe that? In the small amount of time he'd known Killian, yes, he'd been helpful and sweet and kind and loving. But how well did he  _really_  know him?

And what was this curse? Why had Regina plucked him from Wonderland to bring him here, to this world? And why had she brought so many with her? What had they done to deserve new lives with new families?

Jefferson heard a tray being set on the short table in front of him, felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him out of his thoughts as he opened his eyes. Killian was standing close. "Love?" He looked concerned. "Do you have a headache? Do I need to get your painkillers?"

Jefferson shook his head quickly. "No, no, I'm fine." He looked away, trying not to allow himself to get lost in Killian's stormy blue eyes. "I'm alright." Reaching for the handle of the silver teapot, he forced a smile. "Let me get you a cup. You could use the warming up, too."

Killian grinned, sitting beside his husband and leaning back into the sofa expectantly. "I would love a cup of tea." He watched as Jefferson poured, adding sugar and cream to his own cup. "Two sugars for me, and not _too_ much cream."

Jefferson nodded, mixing Killian's requested sugar and cream in before handing him the tea cup. He smiled at the expression on his husband's face when he tasted the warm drink. "I did alright?"

"Very well, love. Thank you." Killian took another sip. His eyes followed Jefferson as the other man began to sip at his own tea. "I'm surprised you're not cuddling." He teased with a grin. "Normally I have to beg to get you out of my lap."

A blush crossed Jefferson's face. His teeth dug into his lip. "I was..." He wracked his brain for a reason to give, something that Killian wouldn't dispute. "I just...I wanted to give you a little bit of space, that's all."

Killian put his arm over the thin man's shoulders and tugged him closer. "I don't like space." He murmured, smirking. "I like you close. You know that." He nuzzled into Jefferson's temple.

Jefferson knocked back his tea, too quickly, struggling to keep himself from coughing. He felt his face burning, and he found himself embarrassed of how his body reacted. He was relaxing, and he didn't understand that. He was relaxing being in such close proximity to someone else, someone he didn't know, and it worried him that he didn't see a problem here.

"There's my boy." Killian's rough voice sent a shiver down Jefferson's spine, the words growled directly into his ear. "I think we need to take a warm bath tonight, what do you say?"

Jefferson looked up in surprise, blue eyes wide. "A bath?"

Killian smiled and tapped his bad hand against Jefferson's upper arm. "You've been out two days, I was on a fishing boat. No offense, love, but neither of us smell very good. I'd rather not snuggle up to you in bed tonight if we both stink." His lips pressed against the vein in the other man's neck, feeling his pulse jump. "And I was hoping for a bit more of an... _entertaining_ night." He punctuated the sentence with a short nip at Jefferson's soft skin.

 A moan escaped the hatter. It had been a while since he'd been touched in any of these ways. His body turned of its own accord, facing the dark haired man next to him. His teeth dug into his bottom lip at the unbridled lust in Killian's eyes. He felt his temperature spike just slightly. He wasn't sure what was really going on. He'd never been attracted to another man before, to anyone, really, except his wife. He just wasn't much for sex, for affection and love, but there was a part of him now that seemed to crave Killian's touch. A part of him that urged Jefferson to dig his hands into the man's short, dark hair and pull him close, to kiss him breathless, wrap his legs around Killian's waist and rut against him. But he pushed that part of him down. It was getting harder now to focus and keep his head. The part of him that wanted Killian, a part of him that he'd never known before today, was getting harder and harder to fight.

"What do you say, Jeff?" Killian's smile widened. "I'll wash your back..."

The spark of lust came back at the words, whispered so huskily to him. Jefferson found himself nodding before he'd even had time to process, and he set down the tea cup, standing.

Killian stood as well, bending down just enough to push the tray with what was left of their tea onto his bad hand. He balanced it with his good one and gave the hatter a small kiss. "Why don't you go up and start running us a hot bath while I clean up down here?"

Jefferson smiled, nodding once more, and headed back to the bedroom he remembered waking up in. This morning felt like it had been years ago. He pushed open the door to the extravagant bathroom he'd been in earlier today. The large tub in the corner shone, all white marble and chrome faucets. It was round, and big enough to easily fit the both of them. He crossed to it, kneeling next to the tub and glancing at the knobs. Cocking his head to the side, Jefferson tried turning one of them. It moved easily under his hand. Water began to flow into the tub, cold at first, and warmed quickly. He tried the other one and found that the water moved faster and began to even out in temperature. Feeling proud, he reached into the shallow water to push on the chrome plug over a hole where the water seemed intent on swirling away and stopped it up.

As the tub began to fill, Jefferson stood back up and undid the buttons on his vest. He caught a glance at himself in the mirror. His short hair was messy now, unkempt, and his face held a faint flush. His lips looked swollen from Killian's kisses. His blush deepened, and he turned away from his reflection. He didn't want to see what this man, the person he called 'husband', was reducing him to. He'd never allowed himself to sink this quickly into someone else, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

Jefferson folded his clothes carefully and laid them on the counter as he undressed, until only his scarf remained. He found that he didn't want to expose the jagged scar about his throat. He didn't want Killian to look at it, to ask about it, to touch it. He didn't want to look at it, himself.

"Knock knock..." Killian pushed the door open slowly, grinning. "There he is. Look at you." He praised. "Didn't waste any time. Want to...?" His good hand motioned at the buttons on his shirt.

Jefferson felt himself drawn closer, hands raising to begin undoing them. Every button undone exposed another sliver of tanned skin, dusted with thick, dark hair. He tugged the shirt from Killian's slacks to push it off of the man's shoulders. His fingers traced over the other man's torso, down his muscular arms. They paused above a cuff that covered where Killian's left hand _should_ be. The cover was hard, something covered in black leather, where the gloved, still hand came out of. His eyes found Killian's.

Killian reached down to undo the cuff and slide it off. He set it on the counter, Jefferson's eyes following it. When the hatter looked back, all that met him was a stump. Killian's arm stopped at the wrist. "Why don't you hop in the bath?" The man grinned his pointed grin, nodding toward the tub. He didn't even seem to notice Jefferson's confusion about his missing hand. "I can do the pants on my own."

Jefferson returned the grin and padded over to the bath, turning off the knobs and sliding into the warm water. After a moment, he threw caution to the wind and undid his scarf. He tossed it toward his husband.

Killian caught it in his good hand and set it on the counter with Jefferson's clothes before divesting himself of what was left of his own clothing. He was not quite as particular about how he set aside his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the tiled flooring and joining Jefferson in the tub.

Jefferson felt a flutter in his stomach as he watched Killian sink into the water across from him. He tried to force it down, to remember that this wasn't his life, that he was a father, with a life in the Enchanted Forest. He tried to remember Wonderland and his imprisonment, but when Killian's fingers ran down his wet arm, he found himself focusing on the other man again. A smile graced the other man's handsome face before he drew the hatter in for a kiss.

Jefferson felt Killian's stubble scrape his chin momentarily before the dark-haired man licked his lower lip. With a soft moan, the hatter found himself being drawn closer, resting his weight into Killian's warm chest. His mouth opened to the other man, and Killian wasted no time in getting intimately acquainted with Jefferson's tongue.

Killian's hand ran over Jefferson's back, pulling him in close. He broke apart after a few moments and smirked. "Ahh, I missed this, the last few days. Kissing you."

Jefferson blushed. "You did?" He wasn't used to this; intimacy, the affection and praise that came from someone that loved him.

"Of course, love." Killian reached around Jefferson to grab a bottle of something slightly pink and creamy, along with what looked like a soft ball of mesh in his good hand. "Let's clean you up. All I achieved while you were out were a few sponge baths. Not really all that close to the real thing, eh?" He poured some of the pink goop onto the blue mesh where it was situated between the two of them. Picking it up, he began to rub it into Jefferson's body. A faint scent of strawberries filled the air.

Jefferson coughed quietly and let Killian clean him, soapy mesh gliding over his shoulders and arms, chest, neck, around to his back. His blush deepened when his husband motioned him to stand up in the bath. The smirk on Killian's face didn't help the matter. After quite a bit of urging, and a few kisses, the hatter gave in, standing out of the warm water. He shivered.

Killian knelt in front of him, sponging over his lower abdomen, his hips and legs, and then behind him. His lower back and thighs were lathered up before Killian patted his leg to tell him he could sit down again. The other man helped him rinse off the suds in the water and smiled. "Hand me that rag, love?" He pointed to the side of the tub.

Jefferson did as he was told, handing the cloth over to Killian and watching his husband dip it into the soapy water. He flushed more deeply when he was told to turn and raise up on his knees. "What for?" He mumbled, doing as he was told anyway.

Killian laughed softly. "I need to finish cleaning you up, Jeff."

Jefferson recoiled when the rag touched his buttocks, shifting away. "Hey-!"

"Stay still!" Killian replied. "Come on, love, normally this is your favorite part of taking a bath with me." He snickered before trying again.

Jefferson forced himself to remain calm and shift his hips back to where they were. His face was burning. The rag drifted over both of his cheeks, lathering them, before Killian's mouth found his lower back. The hatter moaned and then, suddenly, the rag was between his cheeks, cleaning his most intimate part, and he had to stop himself from jumping away. He couldn't help sucking in a breath, uncomfortable and unsure of how to react.

Killian didn't stop there. He ran the rag over that spot a few times before dipping it back into the water and backing away. "There we are. Body's all cleaned up now." He smiled. "Want me to wash your hair, as well?"

Jefferson relented, and a few minutes later, found himself sighing happily while his husband rubbed soap through his short locks, massaging his scalp with his good hand. It was over too soon when the other man helped him lay back to rinse it out.

Killian began to kiss Jefferson again when he sat back up. "You smell much better now, love." He grinned.

Jefferson reached for the discarded ball of mesh and squeezed more soap over it. "Let me clean you up, too." He said softly, smiling when Killian spread his arms. "Then we can be clean together."

"I love that idea." Killian confided with a smirk when Jefferson began to scrub his body. He let out an appreciative noise, arching toward his husband. "That's a boy."

Jefferson grew more confident as he cleaned the other man, soaping up his chest, shoulders, arms, back. He was as thorough as he could be with the way he kept finding himself growing more and more attracted to Killian's body. He had to force himself to look away from the curve of the other man's neck and shoulders so that he could concentrate.

He'd just finished washing Killian's hair when the other man reached for another washcloth. He squeezed a bit of soap into it and reached down into the water to wrap the cloth around his length.

Jefferson watched with rapt attention, swallowing uncomfortably as he watched Killian stroke himself clean with the rag. "O-oh..." He said under his breath. A flush crossed his face when he felt his own cock stir in reply to the image in front of him.

Killian caught Jefferson's eye, winking. "You seem very interested, love." He took the cloth away from his arousal and wrapped it around Jefferson's. "Let's finish cleaning you up, and then we can..." He chuckled softly when Jefferson moaned. "We can head into the bedroom."

Jefferson nodded, digging his hands into Killian's shoulders. He bucked into the warm pressure around his length and whined. "Please...please..." He could already feel his stomach coiling. He'd never had this happen, never had he been this close to release this quickly. This was wrong. Not even his wife had had this effect on him. "K-Killian..."

Killian stopped stroking with a grin and set aside the washcloth. "I think that's all. What say we get this thing drained and dry off?"

Jefferson was only too ready to respond, nodding quickly. He reached behind himself to unplug the drain. The water began to swirl away, quickly, and the cold of the bathroom set in. His arousal waned a bit with the temperature drop, and he thanked whatever deity was listening that he'd finally pulled back from the brink of going overboard. He didn't want Killian to think he couldn't hold back. Surely Jefferson Jones had training in holding off, right?

Killian stepped from the tub, all hard lines and muscle. He looked so masculine, so confident in himself, and Jefferson felt a blush on his face. He'd never once imagined that he'd find himself drawn to someone like this man, or any man, for that matter. A towel was draped about his shoulders, and Jefferson smiled up at Killian as they began to dry off.

"C'mon, love." Killian said, softly, with a glint in his eye that could only be called devotion. "Let me take you to bed."

Jefferson went willingly with Killian into the next room. He sat down on the bed when he was directed to, skin still slightly damp. He handed the towel back to his husband anyway, and watched as Killian tossed both of the towels into a hamper in the corner of their room. A blush found its way back onto his face when Killian advanced on him again. He swallowed hard, heart pounding, and wondered again if what he was doing was right, and where these sudden feelings for the other man had come from. All thought fled his mind, though, when Killian knelt in front of him, between his legs, and began to pepper kisses up both of his thighs. "Oh, oh, Killian..."

Killian smiled up at Jefferson. "I've missed you." He murmured, lips finding another spot to press to, teeth digging in momentarily before he pulled back. "I'm so glad you're alright, love. So glad you didn't end up hurt."

For a few seconds, Jefferson's face was blank, confused. Hurt? And then it hit him, in this world, he'd fallen off of a roof and hurt himself. That's right. Killian was worried about his head. He forced a smile and cupped the back of Killian's head, threading his fingers into damp, dark hair. "Me, too." He replied, sincerely, and he wasn't sure where that had come from. It was like someone else was taking over his body, a different person was in the driver's seat. Except he was sure that he didn't really mind it. This other personality was much cooler, better at keeping composure and better at speaking than he was. He hoped that he seemed half as comfortable as he had been pretending to be all day.

Killian seemed satisfied, putting his mouth back to work between Jefferson's thighs. He nipped and kissed up to the hatter's hips, tongue tracing down the lines of his groin. He chuckled when Jefferson's cock twitched, just barely touching his chin. "Someone's excited for tonight."

Jefferson bit his lip and leaned back a bit. He wished he could control himself, but he couldn't help feeling his body react to Killian's ministrations. He was acutely aware of the man's hand sliding up the back of his calf, under his thigh. He shivered. "Killian..."

"That's it, love." Killian gracefully stood again. He pulled Jefferson's leg up, wrapping it about his hips. "Let me take care of you." He leaned over the other man and pressed kisses into his collarbone. Hot lips slid over Jefferson's skin. The air of the bedroom cooled the saliva left behind, making the hatter shiver deliciously.

Jefferson's arms circled Killian's shoulders. A moan passed his lips, and he felt his body stirring all the more. He couldn't help but arch into the heat of the other man's form. "K-Killian!" He found himself saying. The rough stubble on Killian's chin scraped over the sensitive dip in his throat as the man's hot mouth found his adam's apple. "O-oh!"

Killian's bright blue eyes were just barely visible above Jefferson's own chin, watching him. There was a mischievous glint in them, and Jefferson found himself blushing, just before a naked thigh found its way between his own, and slid up to rub against his erection.

The hatter's stormy eyes slid closed at the feeling. He shivered and tossed his head back on the pillow. Wet, brown curls ruffled against the bright red pillowcase under his head. His hips stuttered against the leg, grinding gently into it. "Please..." It had been long, so long, since he'd been in bed with anyone. Not like this. Not since before Grace had been born.

And just the thought of his daughter, somewhere without him, somewhere with a new father, made his arousal wane. He suddenly felt himself piloting his own body. He was Jefferson of the Enchanted Forest, the Mad Hatter of Wonderland, once more. And this, what he was doing in this bedroom, was wrong. He should be out there, looking for her, trying to get her home, and not in this bed with this man, this person he barely knew. He'd been ignoring his duties as a father to further his own gratification.

"Jeff?" Killian pulled back, giving his husband a confused look as he moved off. "Are you alright, love?"

Jefferson felt his voice catch in his throat when he went to reply, to tell the other man that he'd changed his mind; that he didn't want to do this anymore. The guilty feeling in his stomach intensified. The hurt, worried look in Killian's blue eyes made him second-guess his decision to stop. His gaze slid to the closed bedroom door for only a moment as he entertained the thought of getting up to search for his daughter, of leaving this lie of a life behind. But, as soon as the thoughts had materialized, he realized that it could wait, just for now. That part of him that was convinced that this was his place, this bed, this room, next to this man, was taking control once more, and he turned into Killian's arms. "I'm fine. Just had a thought." He nuzzled into the other man's cheek. "Now...where were we?"

Killian let a hesitant smile cross his face, leaning close for a soft kiss. "I believe we were getting ready to start something a little more enjoyable than a bath." His lips trailed over the hatter's jaw. "You've been out for a few days, so I think it best to take this nice and slow, eh?" His hand was holding up his head, elbow pressed into the pillow by Jefferson's hair. "Want to get into that drawer for me, love? I need the lube." His grin spread wider. "And maybe a condom as well. I know how you are about the cleanup."

Jefferson's face flushed as he did what he was told. He pulled out the bedside drawer. The red phallus greeted him once more, but this time, he didn't falter when he saw it. Instead, he pushed it aside, grabbing a clear bottle of a viscous fluid, still half-full, and one of the metallic squares from the box that some part of his mind had labeled as condoms. He handed them over without a word.

Killian took the bottle in his hand and laughed. "I might need you to put on the condom." He motioned downward with the bottle. "I don't have the ability to...well..."

Jefferson's blush increased when he realized that he'd tried to give Killian such an impossible task. He couldn't very well put on a condom one-handed, right? As he moved to do just that for his husband, rolling the latex down over his erection, his mind went back to that morning, when he didn't even know what those metallic squares were. How did it seem so second-nature for him to know how to put it on now? He shook the thought away before it could distract him any further. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered, except for Killian, this bed, and what they were about to do.

Killian moaned as Jefferson's hand stroked down his length, covering it fully with the latex. "Ah, I missed feeling your hands on me." He leaned in for a kiss, slow, soft. His tongue licked over Jefferson's bottom lip and inside of the hatter's mouth.

Jefferson raised a hand to cup one of the other man's stubbly cheeks, holding him in place. He gave a happy sigh at the kiss and opened his mouth a little wider to Killian. He shifted minutely closer.

Killian pressed the bottle of lubricant into Jefferson's palm. "Why don't you get some on my fingers, love?" He murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, only slightly. His lips still brushed Jefferson's when he spoke. His hand raised, palm up, to the hatter.

Jefferson felt his face heating up once more, but did as he was asked, uncapping the bottle and turning it over for his husband. They both watched as a thin stream of clear gel came out of the bottle. It pooled in the palm of Killian's hand until it almost overflowed, and Jefferson pulled the lubricant away. He reached back to stroke some of the fluid from the other man's palm up over his fingers, coating each digit lovingly until they shone in the low light of their lamp.

Killian hummed happily, winking when he caught Jefferson's eye once more. "Why don't you lay on your back? It'll be much easier to prepare you that way."

Biting his lip, Jefferson did as he was told, moving to lay on his back. He spread his legs slightly, the bottoms of his feet flat on the bedspread and knees bent. He watched as his husband moved from his side to kneel between his spread legs.

Killian stroked the stumpy end of his left arm over the inside of Jefferson's thigh while the tips of his long fingers played about the rim of the hatter's entrance. "I always forget how beautiful you are when you get worked up." He smiled.

Jefferson felt a flutter of fear in the pit of his stomach when Killian began pushing a finger into him. He'd never done this before, despite what Killian said, despite the fact that they were married. It was the other Jefferson, the Jefferson that Killian remembered, who had been in this position before. He was starting to worry that it would be obvious that he'd never done this before. He wondered if it would hurt.

The second question was answered when Killian buried his index finger inside of the hatter up to his first knuckle. Jefferson whimpered, unable to speak, at the unexpected burn, but forced himself to keep quiet otherwise. He didn't want to alarm his husband.

Killian, for his part, stopped momentarily to watch Jefferson's face. Experimentally, he slid his finger in a bit further, pausing again at the soft whine the other man released. "Love? Am I hurting you?" He sounded worried. "We can stop, we don't have to do this tonight." At the determined shake of his husband's head, Killian set his jaw. "Jeff, I refuse to put you in pain tonight. If your head is still hurting and you aren't ready to make love again, you are welcome to tell me. I love you. I refuse to hurt you any more than you already are."

Jefferson's face reddened with shame and he looked away. How could someone like Killian, sweet, gentle, innocent Killian, love someone like him so much? How could he believe that Jefferson was worthy of his devotion, of his love and attention? Just as the finger began to draw back out of him, it brushed something, shooting white-hot pleasure up Jefferson's spine and causing him to arch off of the bed with a cry. "Killian!"

Killian paused. He crooked his finger slightly to rub against the spot a little harder. A smile split his face when Jefferson cried out again, head thrashing to one side in pleasure. "Ah, there it is." The dark-haired man murmured. His finger circled the little nub, gently applying pressure until Jefferson's voice grew needy. His damp hair stuck up all over and his eyes were filled with lust. Killian drew out his finger and pushed two back in. He spread them slightly to open the other man up.

Jefferson winced at the stretch, but his erection didn't wane, not after the way Killian had been working his prostate so thoroughly. He could barely see straight, eyes exploding with stars every time one of the digits inside of him brushed over that gland. He could hear his own mewling pleas reaching his ears, making him flush with humiliation. He'd never made those sounds.

Killian barely seemed to notice. He leaned down to kiss softly at Jefferson's hip, lips fluttering over the pale skin. "That's a boy, open up for me, love." He murmured. His fingers were gentle, slowly twisting and spreading inside of Jefferson. He paused to rub at the other man's prostate once more. "How about another?"

Jefferson bit his lip, but nodded his affirmative. He let out a breath as the two fingers inside moved back out for a moment. When they came back, the stretch was wider. The addition of the third finger was noticeable enough to have him sucking in a breath.

Killian slowed, fingers only halfway in. "Do you need a moment, love?" He asked softly. His fingers wiggled ever so slightly. "Please, just tell me what you need."

Jefferson held up a finger, chewing at his lip and screwing his eyes shut. He could do this. He could take this. His hand dropped back to his side, fingers tangled in the comforter next to him.

Killian slowly, cautiously, pushed his fingers in. He paused again when he'd reached the base of his hand and turned his palm up. His thumb pressed against the hatter's perineum. He rubbed at the spot to offset the pain his husband felt as his fingers searched out the gland inside of him.

Jefferson moaned, shifting once more, as he was stimulated so easily. He tried desperately not to close his legs, to push his thighs together. "Killian...please, Killian..." He found himself whimpering out. The other man's fingers were opening up more now, stretching him, and he found that he wasn't minding it quite as much as he had before. He was starting to enjoy the feel of Killian working him open.

Killian slid his fingers out slowly after a few minutes more of stretching, pleasuring Jefferson. "Do you think you're ready, love?" He whispered. He leaned down to kiss up the side of the hatter's erection. "Tell me you're alright. I want to know you're alright before we move on." His sincere worry was touching.

Jefferson panted softly. His skin already shone with sweat in the dim light of their room. His clean hair was matted down to his head. "I...I..." He blushed and wrapped his legs around Killian's waist. He didn't know what part of his mind told him that this was his husband's favorite position. He'd barely put any thought into it. All he knew was that Killian liked to feel as though he was being pulled in, happily accepted by the man he loved. "I'm ready." He finally said. His thighs tightened about Killian's hips ever so slightly.

Killian's smile was soft. "Alright." He lined himself up and, gently, slid just the head of his cock inside. He watched Jefferson throw his head back with a drawn-out groan of pain. Pausing, he waited for the urging tightening of Jefferson's legs before sliding in an inch more, two inches, three. He stopped again when his husband looked to be in pain. His good hand descended on Jefferson's abdomen, massaging his fluttering muscles. "Shh...it's alright, love. Let me in." He cooed gently. "I know you can do it. Just let me in."

Jefferson's teeth nearly broke through his lip with the force of his bite. His thighs gave another squeeze. He could do this. He didn't need all of these pauses, the gentle urges. He could do this. "All of you, please, give..." He gasped, losing his voice momentarily when Killian's erection slid over his prostate. "All, I need...want..."

Killian looked as though he wanted to protest that, but thought better of himself. "Alright, love. Alright." Hand still massaging circles into Jefferson's stomach, he thrust in, burying himself to the hilt. A moan fell from Killian's lips. He leaned down to press kisses to his husband's collarbone.

Jefferson cried out at the sudden feeling of fullness, legs tightening almost painfully about Killian's hips. "Killian!" He saw stars, bright, amidst the darkness behind his eyelids. His fingers dug into the other man's back. "Killian!"

Killian moaned again, nipping at Jefferson's soft skin. "That's my boy." He gently circled his hips to keep up the stimulation. "Oh, Christ, I've missed you..." Biting softly at the base of the other man's neck, Killian closed his lips around the flesh to suck a mark into it.

Jefferson let out a whimper. "M-my-" He gasped when Killian's cock brushed his prostate once more. "My s-scar..."

Killian pulled away from his husband's throat. "What about it?" He pulled out, just slightly, before rocking back in. He traced his hand over Jefferson's hip to grasp his erection.

Jefferson mewled with pleasure. "I...I re-remember..." He replied, quietly, so quietly neither of them were sure they'd even heard him speak. But he did. He remembered. He remembered being fifteen, being bullied, trying to end it all with a length of twine. And he remembered Killian stopping him. Their first kiss, from the rush of adrenaline. He hadn't even noticed all the blood or the pain until Killian took him to the hospital. He remembered their first awkward date, the first time they fell asleep next to each other. The first time they fucked. He remembered _everything_.

Killian thumbed the head of Jefferson's cock as he kissed at the underside of his chin. "God, Jeff, you're so beautiful like this." He stroked the length gently, as far as he could with their bodies trapping the other man's erection between them. "I love you so much..."

"I love you, too..." Jefferson gasped out, bucking into the touch. "Killian!" He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that his mind switched off, the moment where the Mad Hatter went away and Jefferson Jones took over. But Wonderland and the Enchanted Forest and, yes, even Grace, seemed like distant memories, like dreams, compared to this life. Compared to Killian and their marriage. He gave another soft moan.

Killian altered the pressure of his hips, circling them harder, deeper, stroking Jefferson's cock in time to each movement. "That's it, love..." He kissed over Jefferson's collarbone and delighted in the tightening of his thighs. "Oh, Jefferson..."

Jefferson's fingers curled against Killian's shoulder blades, trying to pull him in closer. "I...I need..." Hips bucking, he tried to control himself. "Killian!"

Killian hushed his husband softly. He tongued at the perspiration between the other man's collarbones. "Are you nearly there?" His hand slid up Jefferson's cock a little faster, using the precum that leaked from the tip as lubrication.

Jefferson moaned. He tightened himself down around Killian. "So...so close." He whimpered. "Please, just...just a little..." A cry escaped his lips when the hand his husband had been stroking him with slid away, palming at his balls.

Killian's fingers descended on the other man's perineum again, massaging at it, slipping down to tease around the rim of his stretched hole. He bit the center of Jefferson's chest.

Jefferson barely had time to take in all of the sudden stimulation before his cock twitched, hard. He let out a choked cry as he began to spill, harder than he ever remembered before, coating his stomach and his husband's with sticky seed. His whole body went rigid through his orgasm, practically clamping down on the other man.

Killian moaned. His hips continued to rock into the tight body beneath him, erratically shifting until he was spilling. He could feel the condom filling with his ejaculation. His hips continued to piston, slowing, until he finally found it in him to stop. He pulled his hand out from in between them, smiling down at the still body of his husband.

Jefferson's bitten chest was rising and falling as he panted. One blue eye cracked open and his lips parted to draw in more breath. "Th-that was-was..."

"Amazing." Killian supplied breathlessly. He slid out of Jefferson's pliant body. A smile came back to his face at the quiet mewl from his husband. "Let me grab something to clean up with and then we can get some sleep." As he stood, the dark-haired man pulled off the condom. He tossed it into the bathroom wastebasket and wet a rag with some warm water from the sink.

Jefferson could barely keep his eyes open from exhaustion as his husband came back into the room. His only movement was the twitching of his fingers and toes when the wet cloth began to clean the sticky lubricant from his skin. "Mmm...that's nice..." He murmured before sleepily turning to nuzzle at the end of Killian's left arm. "I need to sleep."

Killian grinned. This was the Jefferson he remembered, the husband that told him every thought and feeling, the husband that didn't leave him guessing about what he was thinking. He'd never been made to ask what Jefferson's feelings on any matter were, because he always spoke them aloud. "Alright, love." Against his better judgment, he placed the rag on his nightstand. He'd be sure to hear Jefferson complaining about it come morning, but he was too tired to care.

Jefferson, whose thoughts no longer held the horrors of Wonderland or his hovel in the Enchanted Forest, curled up tightly into the arms of the man he'd spent the last five years of his happy life married to: in the bed they'd bought together, in the house his parents had left them after they passed. He didn't once think about the worlds and people his mind had conjured in his head-injury induced dreams, because surely, that's all they were. Dreams.

Because magic didn't exist. Because fairy tales were just stories. And he was Jefferson Jones. A tailor. A husband—and a devoted lover—to Killian Jones.

And that was just fine with him.


End file.
